Clumsy Redheaded Git
by sarahelizabethknox
Summary: Ron is very clumsy. One Shot ficlet.


''SHIT!''

Harry shot up from his bed and blinked several times. Upon hearing Ron shout, his heart felt as though it'd been shocked, and was scared shitless out of sleep. More curses and groans filled his ears as he shot up from under the covers and sprinted in the direction of the sound.

''What the bloody hell, Ron, what's happened?!'' he demanded.

''My hand...! Ahh, my bloody fucking hand, oh fu..''

The rest turned into forced mumbling through clenched teeth. Harry looked down. Red glistened on Ron's thumb, where he was holding his hand and pressing forcefully on the cut. Blood dripped rhytmically to the floor, and after a slight pause Harry walked towards him.

''Calm yourself, Ron, it can be mended..it's all right,'' he soothed. Ron's face was contorted, and he breathed heavily.

''I know, it just bloody fucking _hurts! _Merlin..'' He breathed through his teeth, making a loud hiss-like noise. Harry ran and grabbed a towel from the kitchen drawer to wrap around the injured hand. Annoyingly, he had to elbow Ron to get him to move his other hand off.

''Where's my -- oh for christ's--'' He didn't finish, but snatched up his wand off the counter where he had left it the previous night, and charmed Ron's hand to alleviate the pain.

''Reparo,'' he whispered. ''Aye...that's done...are you alright? Ron?''

Ron stretched out his hand. A funny, almost tingly sensation had replaced the sting of the cut.

''Yeah,'' he breathed. ''Thank you..''

Harry nodded, and moved around the blood on the floor to begin cleaning it. ''What the hell happened, Ron? How did you cut yourself?''

Ron turned red. He cleared his throat and stared at the floor, suddenly very interested in the yellowing tile.

''Ron?'' Harry pressed.

''Er...I was, uh..trying to..well...'' He nodded over the kitched counter, where a rather large knife lay, blood speckling the blade. Beside it, various food stuffs had been arranged -- an egg carton, cinnamon, powdered sugar, milk. All the makings of french toast, Harry observed. In all the fuss, he hadn't even noticed all that mess. He looked back at Ron, half amused.

''I was trying to cut the loaves into your favourite shape..those..sally-boats or whatever you call them...and..well, the knife sort of..slipped.'' Ron looked down again sheepishly, turning a darker red. Harry's mouth twitched, then turned into a small smile. He couldn't contain the laugh that came out. Ron half cringed.

''I'm sorry, Ron, I'm not laughing at you,'' Harry assured him, ''I'm just..that was a sweet thing of you to do.''

Ron looked at him through his eyelashes. ''Yeah, well...it wouldn't've been much good anyway. I really do suck at cooking...and safety, apparently..''

Harry laughed again and slid his hand under Ron's chin, tilting it upward. Blue eyes stared back at him, slightly watery from embarrassment. They were beautiful to Harry, genuine gems. They gleamed as crystal when Ron was happy, turned a darker shade when he was angry. They seemed to reflect Ron as a person very well. Harry did not hesitate to plant a kiss on Ron's cheek, then his jawline, and finally his neck, before retreating. Ron's eyes were still closed, his body leaning slightly for more. Harry wrapped his arms about his neck and pulled him close. Breathing in the scent of him, the familiar hint of cinnamon hit him, along with soap, and detergent. His eyes closed instinctively.

Ron's whisper pulled him out of the calm.

''I don't supposed you want me to continue making breakfast in bed for you, eh?'' He said

Harry chuckled, still holding Ron around the shoulders.

''Not this morning. Tell you what,'' he said, stepping away and making for the mess on the counter, ''I'll clean this up here. You get yourself ready.''

''What for?'' Ron asked.

''We'll go out. It's Saturday. We deserve it. You, most definitely, deserve it.''

Ron smiled sheepishly.

''Alright,'' he said, ''but before you get to cleaning...''

He didn't finish, but stepped towards Harry and locked a strong arm around his small waist, yanking the other boy's body to his. They collided smartly; Ron's lips met Harry's in a rough embrace, and Harry gasped between their lips as he felt himself being lifted from the floor. He had forgotten how strong his companion was!

Shortly after, (too short, in Harry's opinion) he felt his feet touch ground again. His head spun slightly. The kiss and the surprise lift left him a bit lightheaded, but he didn't mind. He smiled a rather silly smile, and turned back to the counter. As Ron retreated to the bedroom, Harry could practically hear the smirk donning his freckled face.

He shook his head, grabbing the open milk carton and closing it, still grinning as big as a clown.

''Clumsy redheaded git..''


End file.
